


Haven ficlet collection

by Tanaqui



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Community: fic_promptly, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanaqui/pseuds/Tanaqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets, mostly written in response to prompts left at the <a href="http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org">Fic Promptly comm at Dreamwidth</a>. One ficlet per chapter; characters/rating are listed in the chapter title.</p>
<p>  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <strong>UPDATED: Two new ficlets (chapters 18-19) added 12 September 2015.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Old words, new wounds (Audrey; General)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Scribbler for the speedy beta work.

_Prompt: Haven, Audrey, newspaper clippings_. Set the day before episode 3x03 opens. 

**Old words, new wounds**

She flicks through the yellowing pages of old copies of the Haven Herald, spread out before her on a table in the back room. She's tried the online archive already, but seems like she doesn't know the right words to use to find what she needs. Either that or, as Dave told her, "there's nothing to find."

She doesn't believe that. Duke found out about the Hunter, and Lucy's disappearance. Dave and Vince—she can hear them, out front, talking quietly to each other—could tell her more and she wishes she knew why they won't. At least they're not stopping her from making her own search.

She starts with the story about Lucy's disappearance. Goes forward for a few weeks. Nothing. Goes back. And back. Nothing. Maybe Dave was right.

"We're heading home." Vince's voice makes her jump. She looks up at him, looming in the door, and he gives her an apologetic smile. "You'll have to pack up for the day."

"I think I'm done." Audrey shuffles the papers together. "But thank you for letting me look."

Heading back to the _Gull_ , she realizes she was hoping to find something, anything, that will make it easier to tell Nathan. Above her, it's growing dark and the stars are beginning to shine out. Another day gone. In forty seven days, they'll begin to fall.


	2. The fault lies not in our stars (Audrey; General)

_Prompt: Any, Any, To the lighthouse_. Set during episode 1x05. 

**The fault lies not in our stars**

From the back seat of Nathan's truck, Audrey watches Duke. She can see his skin sagging, his hair growing whiter, liver spots appearing on his hands: growing old before her eyes. Nathan takes the turn to the lighthouse a little too fast, the truck rocking. He glances across at Duke, his expression anxious, and pushes the truck forward faster. Next to Audrey, Abby is staring out the window, her hands clutched tightly around the pile of towels in her arms.

_Is this my fault?_ Audrey wonders to herself. _If I hadn't stood Duke up...._

She doesn't blame Duke. He's a free agent; he didn't owe her anything. And it wasn't like dinner together was an actual date—okay, maybe a first date. But it was more of a bet, really. She certainly hadn't been planning on sleeping with Duke afterward, no matter how well they'd gotten along.

But if she hadn't stood him up, hadn't totally sucked as a friend, then Duke would have never had a chance to become Helena's prey. If she hadn't ignored his phone calls for most of the day, so they had more time to fix this.... 

So, yeah, this is her fault. Every step of the way, she's made it worse. Which means it's hers to fix, too. So she can be a better friend. Hell, so she and Duke can even be friends at all.

She leans forward, peering up at the lighthouse looming closer, and throws up a silent prayer to whichever gods are playing sport with Haven lives: _Please let me be able to figure out how to fix this._


	3. Firestarter (Nathan, Audrey; General)

_Prompt: Any, any, "You're on fire!" "Thanks!" "No, I mean--"_. Set early Season 1. 

**Firestarter**

Nathan wrestled Morton to the ground and handcuffed him, making sure Morton's palms were turned inward to face his own butt. Why couldn't Haven have ordinary arsonists—the kind who used gasoline and matches, rather than throwing fireballs from their hands? He got back to his feet.

"You're on fire," Audrey said, holstering her gun.

"Thanks." Nathan rolled a shoulder, surprisingly pleased by the compliment.

"No, I mean—" Audrey stepped forward and beat at the hem of his jacket.

"Oh." Nathan twisted his head, trying to see how bad it was.

"It's okay. You're out." Audrey was looking ruefully at the scorched end of her scarf. She must have wrapped it around her hands to protect them.

"Thanks." Again Nathan rolled his shoulder. She must think him such an idiot.

She glanced up and caught his eye, before dipping her head toward Morton's prone form. "The other way, too." She grinned at him. "That was a pretty neat move." 

He felt the color rush to his face. Clearing his throat, he mumbled another, "Thanks."

Audrey had turned away and was hauling Morton to his feet. "Now let's get this guy back to the station and see if we can figure out a better solution to his Trouble than asbestos gloves."


	4. High Stakes (Duke; General)

_Prompt: Any, any, love is an excuse to get hurt._ Set during episode 3x13. 

**High Stakes**

Duke's only been in love three times. 

Oh, he's had plenty of flings. Plenty of one-night stands. One of his rules—apart from the one about not talking to cops—is to never turn down a beautiful woman with an appetite. Or a beautiful man. But only three people have had the power to break his heart.

One of them loved him back, after her own fashion. From time to time, he thinks, she even loved him a little more than her own self: doing something for him where there was nothing in it for her to set against the risk—unless it was the pleasure of making him fall for her again so she could break his heart again. In the end, that's what killed her—caring more about him than about being careful about what she was getting herself into. He mostly blames Reverend Driscoll for Evi's death, but a little bit of him blames himself, for not trying harder to send her away. But, God, when times were good between them, they were _good_.

The second has always hated him. No, that's not true. But they've been at odds most of the years they've known each other, butting heads, rubbing each other the wrong way. Yet there are moments, more than moments, when he sees past the distrust and contempt to something that's more that just a temporary truce and a reluctant friendship. It'd kill Nathan to admit it, of course: perhaps as much to admit that he's not completely straight as to admit that his not-straight feelings are for Duke. Doesn't stop the attraction crackling in the air between them, or Duke hoping that one day Nathan will accept it and surrender.

The last—the last he found too late. Always too late. There was a spark there from the start, but she was busy, distracted, looking somewhere else, looking at someone else. Yet he treasures the little time they've had: treasures what Fate has allowed him to be for her and the memory of that single kiss, in a motel room in the middle of nowhere on the trail of a mystery. And maybe there's still time. Maybe he can make time: for her, if not for _them_. 

As he 'borrows' a boat so he and Nathan can follow Audrey and try save her from her fate, he reflects wryly that his track record means he really should be a heck of a lot luckier at _cards_.


	5. Alienated (Duke; General)

_Prompt: Any, Any, The third wheel_. Set during episode 3x01.

**Alienated**

Audrey is still gasping for breath. Duke holds her lightly, feeling her tremble. She is so alive under his hands, so warm. He's shaking himself, with relief and the memory of the fear he felt in her—fear of him—as he caught hold of her and disarmed her. But what else was he to do? Step out and hope she recognized him before she swung that rusty old sickle, or run the risk of her crying out and bringing her kidnapper down on them?

"Audrey!" 

She turns at the sound of her name, breaks away from Duke. Hurries across the room to throw herself into Nathan's arms. Duke watches the way she pulls him close, like there's no one else in the world....

For her, for both of them, he guesses that's true. He was only along for the ride, to keep Nathan safe and sane, to help him search, until he could deliver them to each other. 

He feels as deflated as a flat tire, as if someone's stuck in a knife and twisted. Well, not as if they need a third wheel now they're together again.


	6. Holding Back (Nathan; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, Author's choice, Withholding evidence._ Set during Season 2.

**Holding back**

Nathan pulled another blank form toward him and, with a weary sigh, began making a copy of the one he'd filled out earlier. The time-consuming part wasn't writing it all out again; it was deciding what to leave out—and how to gloss over the gaps.

There needed to be a record, though: a full record, as well as the official one. Because in twenty seven years' time, his successor might need to know these things. What Troubles they'd seen this time around and how they'd dealt with them. Just as, once or twice, he'd gone back through the files his father had kept, looking for clues or insights. 

Looking for the man his father had been—when he hadn't been butting heads with the son who wasn't really his.

Nathan blinked, the form in front of him suddenly hard to see. He groped blindly with one hand for the desk lamp, the papers in front of him springing back into clarity as he switched it on. Yeah, it had just been the light fading that had made it hard to read his own writing.

He finished the form, reworked the other records, squared away the real truth and the official truth into their separate files. Dropping the official version into the file clerk's in-tray, he headed back to the Chief's office to tidy away the second file in the cabinet there.

Pushing the file drawer closed, he thought again about his father, about how the evidence he'd thought his father had been withholding—not the facts pressed between these brown covers, but what his father thought, what he cared about, what he _felt_ —was all around him once he started to look.


	7. It's a thin line (Nathan/Duke, Audrey; General)

_Prompt: Any, any, fighting fate._ (Set in the second half of Season 3.)

**It's a thin line**

"You know, Jordan said it usually takes some kind of emotional trauma to trigger a Trouble." Audrey took a sip of her coffee and went back to studying the case records of Troubles from back when she was Lucy.

"Figures." Nathan, sitting at his old desk on the other side of the room behind his own stack of reports, gave her a sharp-eyed look. "What brought that on?"

"I was just thinking...." Audrey turned over a page. "You said your Trouble came back when you and Duke fought, after you found out he wanted to use your friendship as a cover for his smuggling."

"Right." Nathan wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going. 

"So...." Audrey turned over another page. "I was just wondering why that was so _emotionally_ traumatic." She looked up at Nathan for a moment, one eyebrow raised. "I mean, it was Duke, right? According to you, the two of you never really got along. So, you know...." She flipped over another page. "I'm just wondering why you _cared_ so much."

Nathan stared at her. He wanted to say, "I didn't," but the words stuck in his throat. Because Audrey was right. He had cared. When Duke had come back to Haven, he'd seemed different—a lie, of course—and Nathan had... warmed to him. Wanted to spend time with him. Wanted....

He didn't even know what he'd wanted. Just... more of Duke.

He saw Audrey was watching him again. Her mouth twitched in amusement when she caught his eye. "Maybe you should think about that," she suggested, offering him an overly innocent smile.

She bent back over the files. Nathan went on staring at her. Thinking. Trying not to think. About Duke, and how crazy Duke made him, and how he wanted—.

"Hey!" Audrey's exclamation broke into the memory of hitting Duke, because if he didn't hit him he was going to—. Coming back to the present, Nathan saw she was holding out a file. "I think I got something here...."


	8. A Glass Half Full (Duke, Audrey; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it._ (Set early in Season 3.)

**A Glass Half Full**

Duke took one look at Audrey's face as she walked into the _Gull_ and reached for the ingredients for a dirty martini. 

"Bad day?" he asked, as she settled herself onto a stool.

"Uh-huh." She raised her eyebrows when he pushed the drink across the bar toward her. "What's this?"

"On the house." He shrugged. "You looked like you needed it."

She snorted as she pulled the drink closer. "Thanks. I think." She took a sip and then saluted him with the glass.

"Better?" Duke leaned forward, resting his crossed arms on the bar, regarding her anxiously. Sometimes he wondered when she slept, between searching for the bolt-gun killer and trying to figure out what might happen when the Hunter arrived and her apparent need to resolve every remaining Trouble before then.

She fiddled with the base of the glass with her fingers. "Yeah, I guess." She sighed. "There's just some days when it feels like you can't fix anything, solve anything."

"But some days you can," he reminded her quietly. "You know, my dad always said: 'Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.'"

Audrey gave him a look that suggested maybe now wasn't the right time to spout off that particular piece of philosophy. "Or life is ninety percent disappearing for twenty seven years and ten percent coming back as someone new?"

"Yeah, well, my ninety percent is trying to make sure that doesn't happen this time around." Duke tried to keep his tone light, though he meant every word of it. He nodded at the drink. "You need me to keep those coming?"

"Nah." Audrey smiled at him, some of the tiredness around her eyes falling away. "I'll finish this and then get some sleep. After all, tomorrow might be a ninety per cent day...."


	9. Family legacy (Duke; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, read it and weep._ (Set early Season 3.) 

**Family legacy**

Duke pours himself another glass of wine, takes a drink, regards the journal sitting on the table in the middle of the small circle of light cast by the lamp. The last of his father's bequests: along with the family blood-trouble and the _Cape Rouge_ , he's been handed a final request.

Kill Audrey, who was Lucy, who was Sarah....

Duke wonders how many generations this has been going on. Does Audrey—with whatever name she arrives with—always kill the Crocker men? If he works his way back through the journal, deciphering the various shades of impossible handwriting, will he find each of her many names? Be able to tie her appearances to the gravestones and church records that note the deaths of his ancestors, all the way back to the first one, the one who commissioned the boxes?

His grandfather only met Sarah in the minutes before she killed him. His father knew enough about Lucy to search for her but, apparently, not enough to find her—or not soon enough. As for himself and Audrey....

He pushes away the journal, takes another drink. 

He still loves the _Cape Rouge_ , though he might not have accepted her if Dad had given her to him straight. He's ambivalent about his Trouble: it's not all bad all the time, even if he can't embrace it the way Dad wanted him to. But this? This last request? The revulsion he felt when he first read Dad's words has only grown stronger since.

He hoists his glass in a toast to his father's spirit. "Sorry, Dad. No can do." Blood may be thicker than water, but—as the box says—love conquers all. He'd rather die at the hands of the woman he loves than be the one to kill her.


	10. Baggage (Audrey; General)

_Prompt: Unpacking Suitcases_. Set at the end of _3.08 Magic Hour part two._

**Baggage**

Audrey hefted her case onto the bed and wearily unzipped it. It seemed a lot longer than thirty six hours since she'd packed it, back in Colorado. And a lifetime since she'd been deciding what to put into it before she made the trip.

She lifted out the hastily purchased red wig, idly smoothing down a few stray strands. Once, she'd been Sarah. Once, she'd had a baby. She wondered if there were any betraying marks on her body, just like the scar on her foot that had confirmed she was also Lucy. 

Turning to the mirror, she pulled up her top, examining her reflection. No obvious stretch marks on her stomach. What else should she look for? And how much of each incarnation survived, anyway? Not hair color, if the wig in her hand and the photos of Lucy's mousy locks were anything to go by – but the scar on her foot and the shape of her face said some things did remain the same from one lifetime to the next.

Shaking her head, she dropped the wig into the trash can, adding the fussy cardigan and ugly skirt that had fooled June Cogan. She doubted she'd need them in the time left to her. It would be hard enough simply to be Audrey, here and now. Hard enough to figure out what to tell Nathan and when.

Her camel hoodie lay folded on top of the rest of her clothes. She put her hands on it, remembering the feel of Duke's fingers against her skin as he slipped it from her shoulders, the feel of his lips on her neck as she came to her senses: realizing what she was doing and what a very bad idea it would be. Something else that was going to be hard to figure out: what to say to Duke, what to feel about Duke, now she could no longer pretend to herself that she didn't know what he felt about her.

Shaking her head, she scrabbled for her toiletries and cosmetics, before banging the lid of the case closed and dumping the whole thing back on to the floor.

Unpacking it all—the feelings as well as the clothes—could wait until she'd gotten some sleep.


	11. Bon Appetit! (Duke, Audrey; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, night out_. (Set late Season 2 or early Season 3.) 

**Bon Appetit!**

"Come on." Duke waggled his eyebrows at her as he hovered in the doorway to her apartment. "Even Special Agent Officer Parker must get the occasional bit of time off."

"Yeah, I tried that once." Audrey, dropping her keys on the table and shedding her jacket, winced at the memory of that endlessly repeating day.

"Besides," Duke leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, "you still owe me from that time you stood me up. And I ended up having dinner with that Helena chick instead."

Audrey rolled her eyes. "And the rest." She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn.

"See?" Duke shrugged one shoulder. "Think about what you might be condemning me to if you say no. Besides, it's gotta be better than an evening spent curled up on the couch with a microwave dinner."

"No microwave," Audrey pointed out in a crushing tone. "My landlord didn't provide one."

"And instead, he offers to provide you with dinner." Duke gave her a small, ironic bow, before softening the gesture with a smile. "Come on. I promise I won't keep you out too late."

Audrey wavered for a moment longer, before capitulating. "As long as I don't have to dress up...."

"Nope. You're perfect as you are. In fact," Duke tilted his head to one side, "you might want to put on an extra layer or two."

"Hmm." Audrey wondered what she'd gotten herself into. "Okay. Give me five and I'll meet you downstairs."

A few minutes later, she tripped back down the stairs to where Duke was waiting for her. She turned toward the parking lot, but he put his hand on her arm to steer her the other way. "We're taking the boat."

As they nosed out into the bay, the wind tugged at her hair and stung hard enough on her cheeks to bring her fully awake again. Tipping her head back, she admired the stars flung across the sky, a million more pinpricks visible from out here than on shore, where the glow of man-made lights obscured them. 

Lowering her gaze again, she was surprised to see Duke was aiming the boat for the island that closed the bay: as far as she knew, it was home only to seabirds and seals.

Then, as he expertly nosed them into a small cove, sheltered from the breeze, and swung the boat around so he could anchor it next to a rocky shelf, she saw in the glow of a camping lantern that a table and chairs had been set up above the high-water mark on the tiny beach.

"What if I'd said no?" she asked, as he handed her out of the boat, feeling surprisingly touched he'd gone to so much trouble for her.

He grinned at her. "Then I would've been eating a lot of shrimp and preparing to repel any hypnotically attractive mermaids and sirens and selkies who swam past."


	12. Asking for coffee (Duke/Audrey; Teen)

_Prompt: Any, Any, "Let’s stop asking for coffee when it’s sex we want." (Alex Gabriel)_ Set between _4.06 Countdown_ and _4.07 Lay Me Down_. 

**Asking for coffee**

"You used to bring me coffee in the morning before work, when I was Audrey." She blew across the surface of the cup Duke had handed her and took a sip.

"Yeah, but when you were Audrey, I didn't put the Baileys in until you gave me the okay." Duke leaned back in the chair opposite and narrowed his eyes at her. "And what do you mean: _when_ you were Audrey. I thought we'd agreed you're Audrey now."

Audrey rolled her shoulder. "When I was more Audrey. All Audrey. Not someone you think you can serve Irish coffee to first thing in the morning without asking."

Duke smirked at her. "Lexie seems like the kinda girl who doesn't function without a little extra something with her first jolt of caffeine." He crossed his arms, his gaze briefly flicking away from hers in embarrassment, before he caught her eye again and added quietly, "You know I'm not really offering you coffee, right? It's never really been about the coffee."

She looked steadily back at him. "I know."

He uncrossed his arms, resting his palms flat on the table on either side of his cup. "I meant what I said in Colorado, you know. I'd do anything for you. And I meant what I didn't say, as well. I'd still like to, uh, 'get coffee' with you. But if you don't want to, you know, 'get coffee' with me, that's okay too."

Audrey slid her hand across the table to cover his. "And I meant what I said in Colorado, too. I don't have enough time to fix our friendship if I screw this up. But I'll take a rain check on that coffee." She drew her hand back and picked up her cup again, grinning at him over the top of it, her expression all Lexie. "Maybe we can even have some wild monkey sex, sometime, too...."


	13. The Wrong Girl (Nathan, Lexie; General)

_Prompt: Any, any, (727): No offense, I mean I'm sure you rocked my world and all but I don't remember._ Set during _4.05 The New Girl_. 

**The Wrong Girl**

Nathan watched Lexie as she looked through the stuff on Audrey's desk. Thank god at least she wasn't doing that thing with her hair, twirling the ends in her fingers. He'd only known her a few hours, but it was really starting to bug him. He had the urge to slap her fingers away every time he saw her start up.

Yet once you got past the clothes and the make-up, she still looked like Audrey. Felt like Audrey, too. when he touched her. Even smelled like Audrey, if he got close enough to get through the stink of stale cigarettes and spilled beer from the bar and whatever cheap perfume Lexie had slapped on that morning.

But she didn't sound like Audrey. Oh, the voice was the same, but the words she came out with were things Audrey would never have said. Even worse was the indifference in her expression when she looked at him. After all they'd been through together and all they'd meant to each other, there was no recognition there.

How was he supposed to make Lexie fall in love with him when she had no memory of what Audrey had loved about him—and he clearly wasn't _her_ type? What would a girl who did drugs and was into kinky stuff he didn't even want to think about—a shudder ran through him—and worked in some dive bar... what would she want with a straitlaced police officer?

And how was he supposed to make her fall in love with him when he could barely stand to be around her? All he wanted was Audrey back and for Lexie to go away forever.

But he supposed he had to try. Knocking softly on the doorframe, he joined her at Audrey's desk.


	14. Who's That Girl? (Duke, Lexie; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, who's that girl?_ Set during _4.05 The New Girl_. 

**Who's That Girl?**

Duke couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in the hospital basement. He'd been a passenger while Tyler had taken his body for a spin, at first yelling silently and then, when he'd realized that was futile, trying to stay calm and watch and wait for a moment, any moment, when he might regain control. It had helped him look where Tyler—in his body—wasn't really looking, and see what Tyler didn't notice.

He'd figured out before Tyler that Jennifer was on to him. And he'd been able to see that the way Lexie had stepped aside hadn't been prompted by fear for her own life. It had been a calculated move; he'd caught it in her eyes, heard it in her voice, felt it in the way she moved. More than that: in _where_ she'd moved and where she'd stopped, ready to deal with him if things didn't turn out the way she expected.

She might not have been completely sure Tyler would let go of Duke when he stabbed his own body using Duke's, but she'd known it was possible.

And how would Lexie know something like that?

He'd thought about it all the time he'd been talking to her afterward, too, while Nathan and Dwight were busy cleaning up the crime scene. He'd seen Evi put on an act enough times to have a good sense of when someone was faking it—and Lexie was certainly faking something. After that, when Dwight had dropped her off at the _Gull_ , he'd watched her from inside for a while longer before he joined her on the deck. It wasn't just the fact she looked the same as Audrey that made him doubt she was Lexie: it was her whole demeanor—and the way it shifted when she realized he was observing her, how she began to fiddle with her hair.

He might not be completely sure she was Audrey, but all the signs told him it was possible.

Opening the door, he went out to confront her.


	15. Business As Usual (Duke; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, repeat the beat_

**Business As Usual**

Duke picked up the card the salesman had left on the bar, glanced at it briefly, and then tossed it in the trash. The shot glass into which the guy had poured a measure of the liqueur he'd been trying to sell to Duke by the case— _brand new; your customers will love it!_ —went into the bus bin next to a shot glass that was already there. It was only mid-morning and Duke couldn't remember serving anyone a short, but maybe he'd found the glass when opening up and automatically stuck it in there. 

Squatting down, he went back to restocking the cooler.

A cough from above interrupted him when he'd only added a couple more bottles. "Excuse me?" a tentative voice asked.

Duke bobbed up, a welcoming smile on his face. "What can I get you?" he asked the man in a gray suit standing on the other side of the bar. Duke thought he looked familiar, but he couldn't place him—and his features were so unremarkable that likely he was simply mistaking him for someone else.

"It's what I can get _you_." The man smiled at him, producing a bottle from behind his back with a flourish. "A brand new liqueur, fresh on the market. Your customers will love it. And very keenly priced."

Duke raised his hands. "Sorry, I don't—." 

"Let me pour you one." The man was already uncorking the bottle. "Have a taste. I guarantee, you'll change your mind." He waggled the bottle invitingly.

Duke shrugged. The _Gull_ was its usual dead self at this time in the morning and what did he have to lose? He reached for a shot glass and placed it on the bar.

The salesman filled it with an amber-colored liquid and pushed it in Duke's direction. Duke took a cautious sip. The taste was pleasant, somehow reminding him of summers past. He tossed down the rest, the memory growing clearer as the liquor slid warmly down his throat: lying in the long grass at the top of the cliffs as a kid, looking up at the clouds drifting slowly above him, the scent of the sea and summer flowers all around him. 

"So, you'll take a couple of cases?" The salesman held out his hand for Duke to seal the deal.

Duke looked at the hand. A deal. He never made a deal without being absolutely sure not just what he was buying but what he was going to get out of it. He never made a deal unless—. 

The lingering memory of his childhood vanished from his mind. He shook his head. "Thanks, but I've got all the stock I need."

"I see." The man gave a slight shrug and reached into his jacket pocket. "Well, here's my card if you change your mind." He held the card out to Duke. When Duke didn't take it, he laid it down on the bar and sauntered out.

Duke picked up the card the salesman had left on the bar, glanced at it briefly, and then tossed it in the trash. The shot glass went into the bus bin next to—.

Duke looked at the two shot glasses already in the bus bin and at the one in his hand. They'd only had a few customers in so far that morning, and all of them had wanted coffee.

Carefully putting the shot glass next to the others, he reached for his phone and punched up Audrey's number. As the call connected and Audrey's phone began to ring, there was a cough and a tentative, "Excuse me?" from the other side of the bar.

Not looking at the speaker, Duke held up a hand for him to wait. 

"Audrey? I think we've got a Trouble...."


	16. Wish you were here! (Duke/Evi; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, postcards from abroad_

**Wish you were here!**

Evi turning up on the _Cape Rouge_ wasn't so much of a surprise, really. Oh, her arriving right then was a little unexpected, but she'd always known where to find Duke. Just as she'd always made sure he'd know how to find her if he ever felt tempted to return to their old life together. Always offered him plenty in the way of temptation.

The picture on the front of this postcard shows a silhouette of pyramids and camels. The familiar scrawl on the back exclaims _Wonderful museums and sites—so many artifacts. Am enjoying exploring off the beaten track!_ He wonders briefly exactly how many export licenses she hasn't obtained for illegally excavated treasures, before he sticks the postcard in the rack where he keeps the others.

Three months later, it's a glittering Hong Kong skyscape. _Who knew high finance could be so fascinating? Shopping excellent._ Sugar daddy or some kind of investment scam? He isn't sure if it's worse to have your heart or your wallet broken—and, God knows, he didn't enjoy either experience.

The next one is from somewhere in southern England he's never heard of: chocolate box cottages and green rolling hills. _Getting used to the English accent and grad student life. My very kind host has an interesting library._ She always did have a knack for unearthing and then charming old duffers with priceless family heirlooms. For a moment, he remembers the buzz of watching her do her thing, and misses it—and then he recalls all the reasons he doesn't miss it at all. All the reasons why he prefers being mired in Haven, keeping his promise to Dad.

Suddenly, he realizes six months have gone by without a postcard. Maybe someone somewhere has caught up with her or caught on to her at last. And then he steps on to his boat one day and finds—not a postcard—but that she's caught up with _him_ again.


	17. Puppet on a String (Duke; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, free agency ___

__**Puppet on a String** _ _

__Duke had believed his legacy didn't control him. That it was his decision what he did with it and how he used it and how he lived his life. Hadn't he proved as much to Audrey when he'd helped her save Daphne? Proved it to himself._ _

__Except now he wasn't so sure. Everything he'd done back in the past, in Sarah's time, had only led to the same result._ _

__According to Audrey, it had also put the world back to the way it was supposed to be, which she and Nathan and everyone else seemed to think was a good thing. But he felt more than ever like a puppet, with someone else pulling his strings, in a play where he mouthed words written for him long, long ago._ _

__He reached out and picked up the bottle of whiskey from the nightstand and poured himself a measure. Putting the bottle back down, he spread his hands, contemplating what they'd done and what they could do._ _

__All his life, he'd called himself a free spirit, a free agent: going where he wanted, doing what he wanted. Yet, for most of it, he'd been driven along by currents and winds not of his own making. His decision to leave Haven; his reasons for coming back; half the scrapes and scams and experiences he'd been involved in during the years between._ _

__Yet there'd been times when he had faced a choice. Maybe his actions each time had been driven by the greater forces that had shaped him into the man he was—but wasn't that true for everyone? And even if his fate was already decided, down to the manner of his death, at the hand of a tattooed man, was that any reason not to try to change it?_ _

__Tossing back the whiskey, he grinned to himself. Maybe he couldn't change his fate, but he wouldn't be who he was if he didn't at least _try_ to buck the system and wriggle out of paying his cosmic taxes._ _


	18. Day of the Triffids (Audrey, Nathan, Duke; General)

_Prompt: Any, any, "Don't be daft, Triffids aren't real"._

**Day of the Triffids**

"Don't be daft." Duke rolls his eyes as Audrey presses him back against the wall with her arm. "Triffids aren't real."

"Try telling that to _that_." Audrey jerks her head toward where the wall ends.

Cautiously—he still thinks she's talking nonsense, but he's not an idiot—Duke leans out past her and takes a look. 

In the middle of the field behind the outbuilding, something is lurching across the grass with an ungainly gait. A little like an overgrown stalk of celery crossed with a venus flytrap. As Duke watches, it whips out a long tongue, but finds no target. The whoosh of the tongue's passing is clearly audible across the thirty yards separating them from its sting.

"Crap!" Duke flings himself back against the wall.

"But Triffids _aren't_ real." Nathan, on his other side, makes the same point, but as if he's reasoning it out rather than scoffing. "Which means someone's making them appear. It's a Trouble."

"Like that guy who made all the plagues appear?" Duke suggests.

Nathan nods. "TJ Smith. Or maybe like the guy with the aliens. Toomey."

"Right." Audrey grimaces as they watch what looks like a large jellyfish—all waving pallid tentacles—bowl across the field after the triffid. "So we just need to figure out who's doing it."

"Good luck with that," Duke mutters. That narrows down the list of suspects to, oh, just half the town.

Audrey isn't listening, She's scrabbling in her pocket for her phone and scrolling through the contacts. She holds up her hand for silence as she puts the phone to her ear. "Vince? I need a little bit of help with some local history. Can you tell me if the Smiths and the Toomeys are related? Sisters? Right. And their maiden name was...? Pendleton? Got it."

"That's Pendleton Cove at the bottom of the cliff," Nathan points out in a stage whisper.

Audrey nods at him to show she's heard, though she's still listening to Vince, too. "Yes, it might be a Trouble. I'll let you know if it turns out that way. Make sure the Herald puts out the right story." She snaps the phone shut. "Well, I guess we've found a place to start. Any Pendletons still living nearby?"


	19. If only it were that simple (Audrey, Eleanor; General)

_Prompt: Haven, any, genetics_

**If only it were that simple**

"Troubles run in families? So it's genetic?" Audrey's trying to figure things out and Eleanor is supposed to be helping, except Audrey's gotten the feeling Eleanor knows a lot more than she's telling. If Audrey asks the right questions, Eleanor will give her the answers, but she's not volunteering anything.

And if Audrey asks the wrong questions....

Eleanor chuckles. "Oh, kiddo, if only it were that simple." She flaps a hand. "Don't you think with all these modern advances in mapping genes and finding the ones that cause certain diseases, I've wondered if I can isolate the ones that make people Troubled or Not Troubled? The ones that separate the Driscolls from the Taylors? But this isn't about eye color or even hemophilia. Dreams that come to life? Drawings that affect real objects? Science can't explain that—or not the science we have right now."

"So I should just give up looking for an explanation? For a root cause?" Audrey scrubs her hair back from her face in frustration.

"I didn't say that. But me and Garland and—. And a few others. We've been talking about this for years. And if there's one thing I can tell you: Troubles run in families, but they ain't just genetic...."


End file.
